so, tell me what so want to hear
by sherstielicious
Summary: After a battle, Steve is hurt, Bucky is angry, and secrets come out. Post-CA:TWS. Steve/Bucky. Angst and Fluff. Hurt/Comfort. Originally posted on my Ao3.


Originally published on my ao3 here.

Steve/Bucky, angst and fluff.

Warnings for a character's unhealthy self-sacrificing behavior and minor injuries.

Title is inspired by One Republic's 'Secrets', because it will forever be The Steve Song in my head.

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Steve's eyes have traced the hard line of Bucky's jaw hundreds of times in the last few minutes. Each pass gives him no more information than the last gave him: Bucky is angry. He doesn't know why, or at whom, but he hasn't seen the other man this upset since he was seventeen, and came home with a broken nose.

Normally, when Bucky is angry, he lets it out. Even when he was more Winter Soldier than Bucky, he would find some way to express himself. It may take a while, but Bucky copes with anger through loud words, or actions. Only when he's truly upset does the other man get like this. Cold, distant, with a set jaw and a stiff back, using as few words as possible. This is Bucky at his most furious. Eventually, Steve knows that Bucky will tell him why. It's his way. Asking now would just make everything worse. He just needs to wait until Bucky is ready to talk.

As the elevator slides smoothly to a halt at their floor, Steve ignores the stabbing pain in his ribs when he steps out. It isn't that bad, not really. The ribs are just cracked, and he'll be healed in a few days. Other people came out of the battle far worse. A full team of Stark robots is currently attempting to remove pieces of the wrecked Iron Man suit from Tony's body, and a few hundred civilians are in the hospital. Steve's own cracked and bruised body—which could have been much worse—doesn't need to concern them.

Once they enter the living room, Bucky strides to their liquor cabinet as quickly as possible, grabs and opens a seemingly random bottle, and takes a swig of the alcohol, all in one seemingly fluid motion. It takes thirty more seconds of Steve gingerly sitting on the couch and Bucky staring into the bottle before Bucky breaks the silence by throwing his facemask—which had been clenched tightly in his metal hand the entire time—against the wall. The dark piece of armor falls to the floor with a dull thud, and the silence that follows is even more tension-filled.

"Why do ya' do it, Stevie?" Bucky finally asks in a choked voice.

Steve releases a breath he didn't know he had been holding. "Do what?"

He isn't sure what Bucky is angry at now. At first, he had thought it was the battle, or something someone said but— he racks his brains for something he could possibly have done as Bucky sets down the bottle and slumps into the couch next to him with a sigh.

"You—you throw yourself in harm's way, you run into burning buildings, and jump off of ifuckin' roofs/i… " Bucky trails off and rubs his flesh-and-blood hand down his face in a world-weary gesture. "You fight like you're tryin' to get yourself killed."

Steve shakes his head in both denial and disbelief. "I'm not, Buck. I—" He struggles for a way to explain it. "I'm strong, I'm fast. I have to use that. What use would I be if I didn't try to help people?"

"There's a difference between tryin' to help and fightin' like you're goddamn suicidal!" Bucky bites out angrily. He takes a visibly deep breath and continues slower, "You don't have to be useful; you're a person, not a tool or a weapon. Hell, you're the one who told me that in the first place. I just—" Bucky breaks off with a pained noise.

"No, Bucky, I didn't mean like that, I—" Steve is cut off before he can even start to reply to what Bucky is saying.

"I can't take it anymore, Steve. I get it, sometimes you've gotta be the hero, but you can't keep doing this to me. I can't keep thinkin' I'm gonna loose you." The other man sounds like he's struggling for words.

"I'm gonna be fine, Buck. You know that. I'll heal. Give this," Steve gestures downward at his current injuries, "a week, and it'll be like it never even happened."

Bucky glances up at him and immediately flinches away, unable to meet Steve's eyes. "But that's what I mean! Just because you can take a bullet doesn't mean you have to! Every time I see you, you're hurt, and bleedin', and I can't watch you throw your life away like that. I l—I need you."

Now Steve is the one struggling to articulate. "Bucky." He manages in a pained tone. "You don't need me. You never needed me. You have a life, friends, you don't need me with you."

"Maybe I want you with me! Maybe—" Bucky stares down at his hands, and continues in a whisper-soft, almost fearful voice, "Maybe I love you."

Steve sucks in a sharp breath, unable to speak, and Bucky moves to stand up. "I'll just go." He says, and Steve tries to reach out to stop him, but his injuries make the movement too painful.

"Bucky, wait." Bucky sits back down and stares at the floor like it's the only thing he can focus on. "You love me?" Steve asks. He almost doesn't believe it when Bucky nods because this can't be real. Because Bucky—amazing, kind, beautiful, iperfect/i—Bucky can't be in love with him. It's unreasonable, and illogical, because as long as Steve has been pining after his best friend, one constant has always been that Bucky wouldn't—icouldn't/i—love him back. He barely manages to whisper out the next question through the crack in his voice. "How long?"

Bucky sighs towards the floor. "Since before the war."

"Why didn't you say something?" Steve doesn't even know how he gets the words out through the tightness in his chest that makes him feel like he has asthma all over again.

"Why the hell do you think?" Bucky snaps. "So you coulda been disgusted with me then, instead of now? Go ahead and say it. That I should just go, or that you aren't really comfortable around me anymore, or even that I'm a filthy fairy. Just say it and get it over with."

Steve can barely believe his ears. That's the last thing he would say; he'd never even think that. He struggles for a way to tell Bucky this, to explain that his feelings are the same, and finally settles on the simplest way. "I love you too, Bucky." Finally voicing his feelings doesn't make the sky fall, or the world end like he'd always feared would happen if he admitted it, so he continues. "Always have."

"Don't fucking patronize me, Rogers!" Bucky growls angrily.

"I'm not. It's the truth. Always has been, always will be."

Bucky looks less upset now, but still skeptical, and its clear in his voice when he speaks. "No, you—you loved that Carter dame, and…" He gestures vaguely into the air. "Not me."

"I did love Peggy." Steve says. "I loved both of you, but she way there, and she was realistic… and I thought she loved me back. You were like a dream, something I could never have. I was just a skinny kid, and you were strong, and charming, you loved dames, and you'd…"

"Never feel the same." Bucky breathes out. He leans in slowly, and even with his injuries, Steve would have plenty of time to push Bucky back or move away if he wanted too. But Steve doesn't want to. He wants to lean in, and close the gap between them.

He does, and their lips meet, warm and soft, and everything Steve has ever hoped for. Bucky's hands come up to cradle Steve's head, and Steve rests a hand on Bucky's hip as their lips move together. The kiss is warm and sweet, but tinged with a deep need, and when Bucky pulls back after what Steve thinks is a much too short amount of time, Steve knows he's flushed pink.

"So, we coulda been doing this all that time?" Bucky asks with a chuckle.

Steve nods, and leans in to kiss the other man again, but pulls back with a pained hiss when the movement aggravates his ribs.

Bucky gives him the same concerned look he has every time Steve has gotten hurt. "I wasn't joking, Stevie. You need to take more care of yourself. You can't just let yourself get hurt, just because you think you'll be fine later."

Steve nods. "Okay. I'll be more careful, I promise."

"You better." Bucky says, now smiling. "Come on punk, let's get you cleaned up."

"You aren't too clean yourself, jerk." Steve replies with a matching grin.

Bucky helps him up and into the shower to rinse the dirt and blood from their bodies. The water stings at first, but the heat eventually soothes their sore muscles and aches. And no one but them has no know if they trade soft kisses underneath the steaming water. Or if after they're clean and curled together in bed, Bucky presses his lips to the crook of Steve's shoulder and breathes, "Love you, Steve" as they fall asleep.

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Hope you enjoyed! Come hang out with me on tumblr at thebarnesidentity to talk about two dorky nonagenarian boyfriends.


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